The Song of the Aviator
by InkIllusionist
Summary: The pathway to flight is a difficult one all Assassins must walk, Aveline walks her path and learns what it means to fly.


A/N: An Aveline background story on how she joined the order, I'm not sure how old she was when she joined, but I imagined she was 8-12, when this story takes place.

This is just a quick one-shot, I might do more when/if i get the game, because it looks amazing~

Please enjoy and review!

* * *

She spent a lot of the time watching, in the shadows, and more recently on the rooftops. Watching and never being allowed to do much more. Her father had told her climbing was not befit for a lady of her upbringing, she was de Grandpré after all.

She opened her hands letting them bask in the glow of the moonlight. She certainly didn't look like one; her distant family from France didn't see her as one either. She was… what was the word?

Her chapped lips sounded out the foreign word that was not so foreign anymore.

"Bâtarde"

She heard the fluttering wings of the nightingale in her room beneath the roof's tiles, for some reason the moon always upset the creature when full.

Caged and kept away from the real world, she wondered if it ever wished to fly again, wondered if its clipped wings ached in the morning when other aviators of the sky made their morning rounds.

She laughed to herself, of course it did. It was a bastard too in its own right, it didn't belong in Louisiana, and it ached to soar in European skies once again.

She wanted to fly too, but she had less than clipped wings to work with. What was she then?

A lady, and a bastard. Those two things did not mix too well did they?

At least if she were a boy she could climb rooftops, and see the world, and not have to worry about her father's constant hints about an early engagement. She stood, the moonlight reflecting off of her almost tauntingly, giving her a glow she could never truly possess. She stepped near the roof's edge, she wanted to fly.

The tiles underneath her betrayed her weight. She was weightless for those 3 seconds, nothing was holding her back. She got her wish and then some.

She smashed rather haphazardly onto the edge of a cart of hay, her leg meeting the edge of the wood with a deafening crack. She wanted to cry out in pain, but her breath had left her, she felt the sickening ooze of blood streak down her dress.

The house was still, her fall perhaps mistaken for the sounds of the city.

She listened to the sickening sound of her body draining and cried to herself. Her father would be furious.

Another sound jolted her out of her tears, footsteps and cursing. A man, darker then she, stepped into the moonlight; but unlike her he seemed to rebuff it, to ignore it like it wasn't even there, despite her pain she envied him.

"What were you thinking girl? You're a bit too young for a leap of faith don't you think?"

She didn't speak, but tried to cover her leg.

"Ah I see, you wanted to fly huh…" he whispered kneeling down.

The man grabbed her leg roughly, and cracked the bone back into place.

This time Aveline did cry out, and this time the rest of the household stirred.

"Your leg will be fine if you set it right, but next time make sure your wings are large enough before you take that kind of dive girl."

Her eyes were blurry with tears, but she could still make out the man's face and his laughing eyes.

"I want wings like yours then" she choked out.

He smiled, before running away and out of the compound. Footsteps and the worried noise of her maid and father came rushing toward her shortly after. He flew well, she thought.

She wanted to learn.

* * *

Her leg had healed within 8 months, and once again Aveline was free to fly about her cage.

She still defiantly climbed the rooftops, but she made sure to be wary of the edges. No matter how high she learned to climb, she had yet to see the African she had met almost a year ago. Her cage seemed even smaller the more she thought about him.

She didn't know what would happen if she were to find him, but she could not withhold herself any longer, her clipped wings ached.

So she would not fly then she thought, she would run.

Her clothing was too fine to go about the city without being spotted, so she borrowed her maid's trousers and shirt, wrapping and tying them about herself to make up for the difference in size. She would be the perfect slave girl, just out to do an errand.

The sun was debuting when she finally managed to sneak out, her form quickly melding with the crowds in the ever bustling city of New Orleans.

Her bare feet ached without a sole beneath them, but slaves could rarely afford shoes and she needed to play her part. The back of her mind burned with that thought.

A change of clothing and she was no more than a servant of another, indefinitely. It wasn't the first time her thoughts had wondered in that direction.

She stopped when she heard screaming, the screaming of a woman being beaten.

Her back was strewn with lashes as the whip continued its campaign, constantly unfurling the old scar tissue upon her skin.

Aveline stared, as the rest of the crowd continued on as if it was normal, as if it was a necessity.

This is what separated her from that fate, a change of clothes, and a name. Her nails dug into her palm.

It was the shout of a patroller that roused her.

"What are you doing here girl, where's your master?"

Her heart ached, and her eyes burned, how she wished to slap sense into the man and tell him that she could go wherever she pleased. How she wished to tell him that she was Grandpré and demanded to be treated as such. How she wished to snatch the whip from the assailant and give him a few lashes across the face. However she did none of these things.

She ran instead.

The guard's shouts echoed behind her as her feet flew across the pavement, forming blisters and undoubtedly cuts but she continued on unimpeded.

She leapt over a barrel in an alleyway, and scrambled up onto the rooftops, heart beating and breath caught in her throat, as the guard continued to look for her below.

"You say you want wings, but ignore the ones you already have."

Aveline jumped, but a hand covered her mouth and prevented her from shouting unduly.

She turned to see the African she had stumbled upon months ago.

"I-I need to…" she trailed off, she didn't know what she needed.

"You are confused, humans do not fly girl…" The man flashed an insignia in his palm. "But they do fight."

It reminded Aveline of a flame, small but strong.

"What is it?"

"It is your wings." He smoothed over the leathered crest.

"However even the most experienced bird can fall, do you think you're ready?"

Aveline heard the echoes of the whip strike across the woman's back, and grabbed the insignia without hesitation.


End file.
